This Scot of Mine Read online

  “I would never abandon your sister.” Never willingly.

  The duke looked no less uneasy at this declaration. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m not abandoning her, but things happen. Things we have no control over.” The sudden lump in his throat felt the size of a small boulder.

  Autenberry stared at him with a furrowed forehead. “This is about the curse.” The duke’s expression was grim. “Have you not given up on that foolish notion? You’re not going to die. Not for a great many years.”

  Hunt shook his head, unwilling to speak of it, unwilling to argue. He wasn’t speaking of it with his wife. He most certainly wasn’t going to speak of it with Autenberry.

  The duke continued, “You know there is no such thing as a curse. Come, man. It’s nonsense.”

  This was why he did not wish to speak of it. People, outsiders especially, could never understand. They never would. “I’m no’ here tae convince you of anything. I am here tae have your word, your vow.”

  “To look after my sister?” Autenberry looked almost offended. He scoffed. “Of course I will. You need not even ask.”

  Hunt shook his head. “Let us be clear. She will be the mother of my child, the future Laird MacLarin. You must look after them. Protect them and the clan until my son comes of age. There are those who would try tae wrest all that belongs tae the rightful MacLarin heir while he is young and vulnerable.”

  Autenberry gazed at him for a long measuring moment before leaning forward in his seat and replying, “Rest assured, I will protect my sister and her child and your legacy. No one shall thieve from them and take what is rightfully theirs. Ever. Not,” he added with heavy emphasis, “that I believe such an assurance necessary. You shall be around for a very long time, my friend.”

  Hunt offered an obligatory smile, feeling much appeased, if not outright better.

  Whatever came to pass, Clara and the child would be well.

  He could rest easy and go to his death knowing that.

  Chapter 22

  Hunt didn’t join them for dinner, convincing Clara that she had done something to displease him.

  Or simply she displeased him now.

  She kept a brave face pinned in place, smiling and chatting with her family. It wasn’t until she was alone in her room that she dropped the ruse. A maid joined her, helping her undress and take down her hair, brushing it for her.

  “Thank you. That will be all.” Instead of climbing up into her bed, she settled into the chaise longue by the window that overlooked the night sea.

  She listened to the waves lapping gently at the shore and closed her eyes. For once sleep did not pull at her. She wondered where her husband was. Did he take himself to the village? Had he left? Returned for home without her? She knew she had wanted to be apart from him before when she thought it could save him, but now she couldn’t bear the thought. She longed for him like her next breath. She really didn’t know what to think.

  She didn’t rouse from the chaise as night descended. She snuggled beneath the soft blanket draped on the chaise, quite content to spend the night here.

  Then the bedchamber door opened.

  Hunt walked in the room.

  Her chest ached at the sight of him, actually hurt as she absorbed his masculine beauty. “I thought you left.”

  He angled his head. “As in left here? Left Kilmarkie House? Left you? Why would you think that?”

  She shrugged uneasily, feeling a little foolish. Even if she felt that he’d left, she should never have admitted that to him. Never revealed such insecurity.

  He advanced. “I would never leave what’s mine.”

  Meaning her? He hadn’t been acting very possessive toward her lately.

  He stopped a single pace from the chaise. His eyes appeared almost black in the shadows. “I’ll never leave you.”

  Except in death. The thought popped into her mind, unbidden, and her eyes burned from the threat of tears.

  He smiled then. “Stop thinking so much, Clara.”

  “Stop thinking?”

  “Aye. You think too much.”

  She snorted. “How can I do that? It is not possible for one not to think.”

  “It is verra possible.” Almost on cue, he smiled, and there was such wicked promise in his lips that she knew for certain that she did not displease him—that he would not be leaving her alone this night. His gaze dropped, skimming her body. “That’s a lovely nightgown.”

  “T-thank you.” He still had the power to unnerve her.

  He closed the distance between them and his hand reached to toy with the tiny ribbon at the scooped neckline. It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t merely toying with it. He knew exactly how it functioned, unraveling the bow with a flick of his strong fingers. Her nightgown gaped open, exposing her breasts. Breasts that had nearly doubled in size in the last few months. They were incredibly sensitive, the nipples larger, darker.

  Before she knew what he was about, he dropped to his knees and took one breast into his mouth, sucking deeply at the tender nipple. She cried out, arching under him, her fingers flying into his thick hair, tangling there, pushing and pulling, guiding him in his expert ministrations.

  He turned his attention to her other breast and she released a keening moan.

  He growled in approval against her damp skin. “That’s it,” he crooned, biting down gently on the engorged tip.

  Moisture rushed between her legs and she shuddered, climaxing in a hot rush.

  His fingers moved to the hem of her nightgown. “As lovely as this is on you, it would look much better on the floor.”

  She giggled.

  He bent slightly, watching her face intently as he clutched the hem. She lifted up, helping him to pull it up over her head.

  A cool draft swept over her. She was completely bare.

  His breathing grew ragged as he surveyed her. She tried not to feel embarrassed of her swollen breasts and enlarged belly. It wasn’t their first time. Still, she resisted the urge to cover herself with her hands. He desired her. She could see the evidence tenting his trousers. It was proof enough. Desire still licked through her. She throbbed between the legs, still wet and aching, clenching to be filled.

  Only a few inches separated them, but he didn’t touch her. Not yet. She felt the heat radiating from his stare, from his body, but he didn’t lift a finger to touch her.

  His gaze tracked hotly over her. He lowered down to the chaise, sitting along the edge. His head dipped until their foreheads touched. “You’re so beautiful.”

  Then he was kissing her. Hot, addicting kisses as he picked her up and carried her to the bed, his big hands clenching her bottom, singeing her skin.

  “Hunt,” she said against his mouth. “I’m too big . . . too heavy.”

  “Nonsense.”

  Pushing away that worry, she wrapped her arms around him, reveling in the sensation of his strength, his power. Even with his garments on, she could feel his flexing flesh quivering under her fingers as he carried her.

  He sat down on the bed with her on his lap. His hands moved to her face, broad palms cupping her cheeks, fingers burrowing into her loosened hair as they continued to kiss, their heads angling as if they couldn’t taste each other enough.

  There was no such thing as too close. He turned, lowering them to their sides on the bed and hauling her as close as her belly between them would allow. Her breasts smashed against his chest and she reveled in the hard strength of him against her.

  The pressure of his mouth on hers increased. He nipped her with his teeth and dragged his open mouth down her exposed throat. When he reached where her shoulder and neck met, he bit down, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make her moan.

  He closed both hands over her aching breasts. She arched up into his palms. His head descended and his mouth closed over an already aroused nipple, drawing it deep into the wet warmth of his mouth.

  “Ohhhh,” she cried, burying her hands in his hair and hol
ding him to her. “Don’t ever stop. Stay here forever.” The moment the words were out, she felt a sharp stab of regret, reminded that they couldn’t be true.

  His movements became more urgent as he moved to her other breast, his words fanning over her moist nipple. “I’m not going anywhere.” For now.

  He didn’t say that last bit, but she heard it. Felt it humming from him. He scooted away from her, shed his clothes. It took only a minute, but it was the longest minute of her life.

  A shudder ran through her. He returned to her side and flipped her fast onto her back. She widened her thighs for him to settle between them, and he did, the faint prickle of hair on his thighs tickling hers.

  She rocked, thrusting upward, grinding against him. He felt delicious, hard and insistent against the heat of her, and she ached, her core clenching with need.

  She writhed, wiggling desperately up against him. She couldn’t take another moment of this. Her fingers dug into his bare back. Incredibly, she felt small and delicate as he rained kisses all over her body. He was so much bigger than her, hard and muscled. She felt fragile. Prized. Loved.

  His fingers touched her, featherlight, skimming up the inside of her thighs. She arched, clawing the counterpane as his fingers found her and delved inside her heat.

  “Hunt,” she choked, bewildered as his thumb found that tiny, hidden nub. He pressed down on it, rolling it between his fingers. “Hunt, please.”

  “Not yet.” He slid down her body and put his mouth there. She shrieked and lurched up off the bed. He curved a hand over her belly, cupping and caressing her there as his fingers surrounded that aching nub. He lowered his head and sucked, drawing her into his mouth. His tongue played against her as he worked her between his lips.

  She gasped and shuddered, sensation eddying out from where his mouth worked her to a frenzy. She seized his head, fisting his hair. His hands slid under her, lifting her higher and holding her in place for him like she was some kind of succulent feast.

  “Hunt . . . please!”

  “Say it.” His lips moved against her and this only excited her more. She tugged on his hair, trying to bring him back over her. He continued to toy with her, indulging himself. She released a long moan as he eased one finger deep inside her.

  “Say it,” he demanded, thrusting in and out of her slowly, tormenting her. He went deeper, pushing, hitting a spot that sent her spiraling. All the while his mouth sucked her harder, only adding to the intensity of the experience.

  She was still shaking, pleasure rushing through her when he lifted away from her body.

  “Hunt,” she moaned his name, squirming for him.

  Then his mouth was on hers again.

  The hard length of him slid over her needy core, not penetrating, just teasing against her folds. She lifted her hips, her breaths coming in shallow pants.

  “Please, Hunt,” she begged.

  His eyes glinted down at her. “I want tae remember this. You. Like this.” Her skin turned to gooseflesh at his raspy words. “Always.”

  Her nails dug into the skin of his back. “Take me now, Hunt.” Was that her voice? She didn’t even recognize the low growl. She moistened her lips.

  He smiled, slow and wicked, and a shiver rippled through her.

  She felt him then. His hardness easing inside her. Her eyes widened at the sensation. Her fingers clenched his biceps, marveling that it was still new. Each time with him felt new and different and wondrous.

  He groaned, dropping his head in the crook of her shoulder, his mouth moving against her oversensitive flesh. His hands slid under her back, his fingers curling over her shoulders, anchoring her between his body and the bed, pulling her as close as he could with the swell of her belly between them.

  And then he plunged, pushing deep inside her, wrecking the last of her composure as he seated himself to the hilt.

  “Oh!” she gasped at the swift invasion. It was too much. She felt stretched, full and complete in a way she had never imagined possible. Her muscles hugged him, throbbed around his hard length.

  He lifted his head off her shoulder and smoothed a lock of hair from her forehead. His eyes gleamed down at her with an emotion she did not imagine. Something that looked suspiciously like longing. Like regret.

  She shook her head, unable to speak, too busy absorbing everything. Like how he actually seemed to expand inside her. How she clenched around him and that shot sensation to every nerve in her body.

  She wiggled, experimenting with what seemed to heighten and intensify her pleasure.

  He groaned.

  Her hands flew to his backside, encouraging him to increase his movements.

  He answered with a harder thrust that made her yelp and arch under him. “Yes!” she cried, delighted that he wasn’t treating her like some bit of fragile glass. His hips worked then. She whimpered at the drag of him against her oversensitive flesh. He went faster. Small, animal-like sounds she didn’t even recognize escaped her. The friction drove her wild.

  A pressure built at her center, coiling between her legs. She angled her hips, taking more of him inside her, following her instincts, searching for a way to bring him closer, deeper, to assuage that ache that only seemed to grow.

  Her body demanded more. Needed more.

  “Clara,” he choked. “We have tae take care . . . the babe—”

  “The baby is fine. And I won’t break,” she growled.

  She lifted her head and sank her teeth down on his shoulder and it was like she set a fire loose in him. It flamed to life.

  He moved then. His big hands slid under her, lifting her higher, positioning her in a way that altered everything. He hit that hidden place, that spot that unraveled her.

  She came apart in his arms. She cried out his name, dropping back on the bed with a satisfied sigh. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer as he finished with a shudder and then stilling. He turned his head to press an openmouthed kiss to the side of her neck.

  She held him close, one hand in his hair, the other smoothing over his back.

  He’d stamped himself on her. Permanently. Indelibly. He was in her blood. A part of her soul now.

  The sound of their serrated breaths filled the air. They both knew their time together was limited. She didn’t want to lose this, didn’t want to let it go, didn’t want to look at his face and confront the regret she was certain to see in his eyes.

  Because longing and regret were there, in every moment of this, in every ragged draw of breath. It was cutting deep and razor sharp between them.

  Chapter 23

  They stayed a fortnight with her brother and Alyse at Kilmarkie House. It was wonderful being with Marcus and her sister-in-law and cuddling with her new nephew. She and Alyse finally had their long walk along the shoreline, although the dolphins didn’t appear for them. No. The dolphins decided to wait and make an appearance when she and Hunt took a late afternoon stroll along the pink-pebbled beach the day before their departure.

  It was just the two of them when dozens of dolphins began cresting the surface of the water, their fins like blades cutting through the liquid deep. She gasped when the first one dove into the air in a beautiful arc, its dark body sleek and sinuous in the air. Soon after others followed. She clapped her hands in delight. She felt like she was witnessing something miraculous. It almost felt holy. Certainly God’s hand was in this, and it filled her with serenity and the belief that all would be well.

  She and Hunt admired the beautiful creatures for long moments before continuing on their stroll, and she couldn’t help but think that he had already lived up to the promise he had made to her on that long ago day.

  I’m offering you a chance at a new life. Away from boring, oppressive London . . . as my wife, you will have freedom. You can do more . . . experience more . . .

  Standing here, she had never felt more alive. More free. True, she would have seen the dolphins eventually. She needn’t have married him for that to happen, but it wouldn’t ha
ve been the same with anyone else. With anyone other than Hunt beside her.

  She looked down at the ground. “I’ve never seen pink stones before. Extraordinary,” she murmured, bending down to scoop a small handful of the glossy, water-polished rocks into her gloved hand. Hunt immediately gripped her arm to make sure she kept her balance on the uneven ground.

  Straightening, she examined the assortment of stones. They were all shades of pink. Some pale. Some a deeper rose shade. Some streaked with gray, some with black marbling. But all were undeniably pink.

  “Wait until you see what this shoreline looks like lit up on a sunny day.” He tilted his head back to look up at the overcast sky. “That won’t likely be for months from now. Not until the summer.”

  In the future. That’s what he meant. That’s what he was saying even though he had not directly stated it. It was an innocent slip. Not harmless, however. If it were harmless, his words would not have felt like such a blow to the chest—like a dagger to the heart.

  Months from now he could be gone. If the curse is real. If the curse wins.

  She quickly scolded herself. There had been no recent accidents. Hunt was fit and hale. The perfect visage of health. All appeared well. She shouldn’t let fear rule her and destroy the happiness that could be hers if she would only seize it—embrace it.

  “You should put a few in your pocket. Tae keep,” he suggested. “Tae always remember today.” A faint smile hugged his well-carved lips.

  She looked down at the stones filling her palm. He was right, of course . . . even if his words spoke to the fear that threatened to devour her. She would be back to this place again. Any time she chose, she could come here. Her brother and his family would always live here.

  But there was no guarantee she would ever be back here again with him. No assurance that she would be standing on this shore beside Hunt. That dreaded fear pumped through her, whispering, taunting that she would never have this perfect moment with him again.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she closed her fingers over the assortment of stones and tucked them into the pocket of her cloak. “That’s a brilliant idea.” She smiled at him brightly, hoping her smile looked more natural than it actually felt.